Kayden and I went on a "date" last night to celebrate 12 years since his dad and I met on February 6, 2003. I woke up at 3:34 again this morning - wide awake.
Saturday, February 7, 2015
Thursday, February 5, 2015
Colorado State Patrol
The Colorado State Patrol never even told me that Joe was ejected from the truck. That fact, and several others, were revealed to me through the local newspaper. Although I know I shouldn't, I harbor treatment toward authorities because of it.
Here is a link to the article: http://www.greeleytribune.com/news/13644225-113/weld-sikes-county-crash
When my sister arrived from Georgia, I asked her to take me to the wrecking com pany so I could see the truck. I didn't take pictures. I didn't have to - the image is forever burned into my thoughts. The entire cab of the truck was level with the hood. If Joe had not been thrown out, he would have been even more mangled.
The investigators would not let me search the truck for any of Joe's belongings. At the time, no one knew where his phone or wallet were located. I was not allowed to touch anything.
Since then, I found out that a co-worker who was helping with clean up at the crash site picked up some of his belongings (including his phone and wallet) from the mud near the truck. It took all day to load the truck and trailer on the wrecker. Within a couple of days, some of Joe's belongings were returned to me by the co-worker.
I found out a couple of weeks ago that pictures were taken on the scene during clean up. When I saw the truck, it was somewhat put together. It didn't look like this:
When the State Patrol informed me that the truck had rolled down an 80 ft. embankment, I had in my mind a picture of being in the hills.
All of this is still hard for me to grasp. I continuously try to understand what caused the accident to begin with. I can only trust that God knows what he is doing and had bigger plans for Joe than what we had together.
Wednesday, February 4, 2015
No Longer Numb
I don't know how this whole journey through grief will work. What I do know is that I continue reading and hearing that everyone's journey is different. I feel like mine will be an excruciatingly long process as I'm still trying to only figure out what will work the best to help me get through the fact that my whole life changed in a single instant.
Our dreams, our hopes, our lives all changed simply because of one injury. Yes, I'm very relieved that Joe didn't suffer - it gives me comfort considering no one can tell me how long he was lying in the mud on the side of Highway 85. The autopsy report stated that Joe's C1 and C2 vertebrae had fractured and separated (which indicated instant death). That was his ONLY injury other than scrapes and bruises after being thrown from a semi that rolled.
Now, three months later, the numbness and shock has faded. I want that back. I don't want to have to face life without my partner, my best friend, my lover, my child's father, my all.
A Day I'll Never Forget...
November 3, 2014
3:34am
I awoke from sleep, checked my phone, and rolled over to make sure Joe wasn't still asleep. He usually left for work by 3:00am. He wanted to be able to spend as much time with us as possible and he had no problem with waking up early to finish his loads soon after Kayden left school. Surprisingly, he was already gone. I had not even noticed him get out of bed or get dressed. As usual, when I wake up, I lay in bed for a few minutes and check Facebook. I had notifications on a picture I knew I hadn't posted (Joe and I share an account). When I opened the picture, all I could do was laugh. Joe had posted another picture of me sleeping in a very awkward position at 12:41am:
I put my phone away and attempted to go back to sleep. I would have to be up in a couple of hours to prepare for the day and get Kayden to school. Although I only had feelings of comfort and peace, I simply couldn't go back to sleep. Because Joe had introduced me to the Sons of Anarchy television series on NetFlix, I decided I would watch a couple of episodes before beginning the day. I came across a few things that I couldn't wait to tell Joe about when he called at 8:30am after I arrived home from driving Kayden to school. We usually walked, but it had been raining all night and was rather cold - 34 degrees according to The Weather Channel App on my phone.
Still in my pajamas (horrible mom, I know), I began clipping coupons, continued watching an episode of Sons of Anarchy, and was waiting for Joe to call after returning from the drop-off line at the elementary school.
There was a knock on the door.
I was dumbfounded. Who would be knocking on our door? We had only recently moved to Evans, Colorado and didn't know anyone other than people we met at church.
As I slightly opened the door to see who was standing outside, I noticed a uniformed male police officer and two women standing with him. The woman in the front asked, "Are you Kimberly Sikes?" I nodded my head. I was really wondering if they were going to arrest me for a toll fee that I forgot to pay or something. She continued, "Are you Joe's wife?" I nodded again - still trying to figure out what all the questions were about and only peeping through the slightly opened door. Then, she stated that they were with the Colorado State Patrol asked if they could come in. (Crap, I don't even have on a bra.) Hesitantly, I agreed and opened the door for them. Immediately, I had to put Monkey Butt (our French Bulldog) in his crate. Although he loves people, he tends to love them a little too much.
I informed them that we really didn't have many places to sit at the moment because we recently moved to the area. But, the lady insisted that I sit down and she sat beside me on our new couch which we had purchased only 4 days prior. What she said next NEVER crossed my mind as a possibility as to why these people would be at our house.
"Mrs. Sikes, Joe was killed in an accident this morning."
Wait, what? No. Can't be. He posted a picture of me sleeping on Facebook this morning. He's going to call any minute. I'm waiting for him to call. This can't be right. You're not talking about my Joe.
I'm sure the look on my face said it all.
Once again, she continued speaking, "His semi left the road on Highway 85 going northbound and rolled down an embankment. He was pronounced dead at the scene."
I raised my feet onto the couch, wrapped my arms around my knees, and began to wail and rock back and forth as I processed what this stranger was saying. She didn't know him. How did they know I was here? He didn't even have his license changed with our new address, yet. "MY BABY, OH MY GOD! HOW AM I GOING TO TELL MY BABY!"
My attention immediately went to our son and how he no longer has a father who loved him with all his heart and only wanted the very best for him. He always wanted to be there for his pride and joy. I still didn't believe them.
The other woman, now introduced as an investigator for the Weld County Coroner's office, asked if I had family in the area. (No.) Then, she asked if she could call someone for me. I handed her my phone and gave her my mother's phone number at work. I couldn't talk to anyone. I couldn't breathe. I went to the bathroom to grab a roll of toilet paper. The sleeve of my shirt was already soaked with tears. There was no way I could wipe snot there, too.
The investigator walked into Kayden's room and I could faintly hear her attempting to speak to my mother. The state patrolman watched me as I walked out of the bathroom with the toilet paper - still trying to catch my breath. Suddenly, my phone is shoved in my face.
I can't talk on the phone. She said that she was going to call someone for me. Why couldn't she tell my mom?
I struggled to say, "Hello." Mama was already frantic because someone else was calling her from my phone. "What's wrong? Is Kayden okay?"
Choking on each word, I finally got something out. "Mama, Joe was in an accident. He didn't make it." It took forever for those words to come out of my mouth. It wasn't real until I said it. Her reaction was the same as what I was thinking, but didn't say when the woman first told me, "What?" Then came the hardest two words I've EVER said in my life, "Joe died!" That was all I could manage to say to her. I shoved the phone back into the woman's face and bawled even harder than before.
They asked if I had any questions. Of course, I have questions. Who wouldn't have questions. But, apparently my questions were too difficult for these people. They couldn't even answer what would seem like a very simple question, "Did the truck burn up?" He was hauling crude oil. That would be a legitimate, simple question to me.
What they could tell me was that the 911 call was made at 3:58am concerning a semi that had rolled - no other vehicles were involved and no one saw the accident actually happen. When the ambulance arrived, Joe was already gone. In addition, because he was driving a semi, the state requires an autopsy. (They wanted to make sure he wasn't drunk or doped up.)
I needed to go get my baby. He would make me feel better. But, I needed to take a shower. Suddenly, I felt so gross. I still had people in our house - well, our apartment. Our house is in Georgia. Thank goodness we didn't sell our house. What am I going to do? Oh, what am I going to say to Kayden? How is he going to react? How am I going to raise him all by myself. He's supposed to have two parents.
The victim's advocate asked if she could drive me to the school and if she should tell our son or if I wanted to do it. I knew I had to do it. How insensitive would that be to have someone he has never even seen before to tell him that his daddy's dead while I sit there in silence? I don't think so. "I do want you to drive me to the school. I will tell him, though. And, if you don't mind, I need to take a shower first."
On the way to the school, I remember the need for support from someone. I knew I couldn't talk to anyone at the moment. Kayden needed to be the first to know about this. No one else. I opened the Facebook App on my phone and updated my status to read, "Please, please, please say a prayer for my family."
We pulled up at the school. The victim's advocate informed me that while I was in the shower, she called the school to inform them that we were on our way and what had happened. She and I walked into the principal's office and sat down while the principal went to get Kayden from his classroom. I knew the little guy was strong like his daddy, but I didn't expect his reaction at all. When he walked in the office, I could see the look of bewilderment all over his face (he gets that from me). I motioned for him to sit in my lap. He asked, "What's going on?" I had tried to figure out the easiest way to say this to him. Easy? You've got to be kidding. There is nothing 'easy' about saying this. His daddy is his hero. He's supposed to be invinsible.
Trying to fight back the tears that were flowing down my face like rain out of two downspouts, I muttered,"Daddy's been in an accident. He's not coming home."
My little rock only shed one tear. No crying. No screaming. No throwing anything. He turned all the way around to face me with one tear holding onto his left cheek and gave me a really big hug. I bawled some more.
How can a child be so strong? It's not that he doesn't understand. He understands because it was less than two years ago since he lost his Papa and less than a year ago since he lost his G-Ma. He totally understands. In my opinion, he understands too much for an eight year old little boy. Why has he had to go through so much? Why us?
As we walked to the victim's advocate's car, I asked if she would take me to the yard where Joe parked the X-Terra so I could drive it back to the apartment. She agreed to do so. On the way over there, I began making some really important, difficult phone calls. I didn't have Joe's dad's phone number so I called his wife to get it. She asked a couple of different times what was wrong, but I couldn't tell her. I needed to tell Cliff myself. Then, I called his sister, one of his aunts, and his uncle.
I didn't know if Kayden would want to ride in his daddy's truck or not, but I asked and he did. So, we loaded up and I drove us back to the apartment while the victim's advocate went her separate way. Without me knowing, my mother had a family member to contact the church and I received a phone call before we arrived at the apartment that there were people waiting on us when we arrived.
How appreciative I am that people were there to help me with the most simple task - keeping Kayden occupied. He's such a people person. He thrives on attention. I'd much rather have it that way so the attention is not on me.
The women from the church took care of coordinating all kinds of things for me - like picking up my sister from the airport (she hopped on the first available flight), making sure Kayden had something to do, organizing meals, and even help for packing. I couldn't stay in Colorado. The only reason we went was for Joe's job. Our family was in Georiga. Our home was in Georgia. I needed to go home.
The next few days were a blur of crying, packing, crying, talking on the phone, crying, answering messages and texts, crying, and more crying. I do remember finding out more information from the Greeley Tribune than what was given to me by the Colorado State Patrol.
I remember a wonderful lady from church giving me a massage to help me rest better. I also remember so many people offering up prayers and support for me and for my baby. We have such a large support system and I am so very thankful for that. It's hard for me and i'm sure I can be difficult to handle, but It means so much to me to be shown so much love and compassion by so many people. Thank you, all!
3:34am
I awoke from sleep, checked my phone, and rolled over to make sure Joe wasn't still asleep. He usually left for work by 3:00am. He wanted to be able to spend as much time with us as possible and he had no problem with waking up early to finish his loads soon after Kayden left school. Surprisingly, he was already gone. I had not even noticed him get out of bed or get dressed. As usual, when I wake up, I lay in bed for a few minutes and check Facebook. I had notifications on a picture I knew I hadn't posted (Joe and I share an account). When I opened the picture, all I could do was laugh. Joe had posted another picture of me sleeping in a very awkward position at 12:41am:
I put my phone away and attempted to go back to sleep. I would have to be up in a couple of hours to prepare for the day and get Kayden to school. Although I only had feelings of comfort and peace, I simply couldn't go back to sleep. Because Joe had introduced me to the Sons of Anarchy television series on NetFlix, I decided I would watch a couple of episodes before beginning the day. I came across a few things that I couldn't wait to tell Joe about when he called at 8:30am after I arrived home from driving Kayden to school. We usually walked, but it had been raining all night and was rather cold - 34 degrees according to The Weather Channel App on my phone.
Still in my pajamas (horrible mom, I know), I began clipping coupons, continued watching an episode of Sons of Anarchy, and was waiting for Joe to call after returning from the drop-off line at the elementary school.
There was a knock on the door.
I was dumbfounded. Who would be knocking on our door? We had only recently moved to Evans, Colorado and didn't know anyone other than people we met at church.
As I slightly opened the door to see who was standing outside, I noticed a uniformed male police officer and two women standing with him. The woman in the front asked, "Are you Kimberly Sikes?" I nodded my head. I was really wondering if they were going to arrest me for a toll fee that I forgot to pay or something. She continued, "Are you Joe's wife?" I nodded again - still trying to figure out what all the questions were about and only peeping through the slightly opened door. Then, she stated that they were with the Colorado State Patrol asked if they could come in. (Crap, I don't even have on a bra.) Hesitantly, I agreed and opened the door for them. Immediately, I had to put Monkey Butt (our French Bulldog) in his crate. Although he loves people, he tends to love them a little too much.
I informed them that we really didn't have many places to sit at the moment because we recently moved to the area. But, the lady insisted that I sit down and she sat beside me on our new couch which we had purchased only 4 days prior. What she said next NEVER crossed my mind as a possibility as to why these people would be at our house.
"Mrs. Sikes, Joe was killed in an accident this morning."
Wait, what? No. Can't be. He posted a picture of me sleeping on Facebook this morning. He's going to call any minute. I'm waiting for him to call. This can't be right. You're not talking about my Joe.
I'm sure the look on my face said it all.
Once again, she continued speaking, "His semi left the road on Highway 85 going northbound and rolled down an embankment. He was pronounced dead at the scene."
I raised my feet onto the couch, wrapped my arms around my knees, and began to wail and rock back and forth as I processed what this stranger was saying. She didn't know him. How did they know I was here? He didn't even have his license changed with our new address, yet. "MY BABY, OH MY GOD! HOW AM I GOING TO TELL MY BABY!"
My attention immediately went to our son and how he no longer has a father who loved him with all his heart and only wanted the very best for him. He always wanted to be there for his pride and joy. I still didn't believe them.
The other woman, now introduced as an investigator for the Weld County Coroner's office, asked if I had family in the area. (No.) Then, she asked if she could call someone for me. I handed her my phone and gave her my mother's phone number at work. I couldn't talk to anyone. I couldn't breathe. I went to the bathroom to grab a roll of toilet paper. The sleeve of my shirt was already soaked with tears. There was no way I could wipe snot there, too.
The investigator walked into Kayden's room and I could faintly hear her attempting to speak to my mother. The state patrolman watched me as I walked out of the bathroom with the toilet paper - still trying to catch my breath. Suddenly, my phone is shoved in my face.
I can't talk on the phone. She said that she was going to call someone for me. Why couldn't she tell my mom?
I struggled to say, "Hello." Mama was already frantic because someone else was calling her from my phone. "What's wrong? Is Kayden okay?"
Choking on each word, I finally got something out. "Mama, Joe was in an accident. He didn't make it." It took forever for those words to come out of my mouth. It wasn't real until I said it. Her reaction was the same as what I was thinking, but didn't say when the woman first told me, "What?" Then came the hardest two words I've EVER said in my life, "Joe died!" That was all I could manage to say to her. I shoved the phone back into the woman's face and bawled even harder than before.
They asked if I had any questions. Of course, I have questions. Who wouldn't have questions. But, apparently my questions were too difficult for these people. They couldn't even answer what would seem like a very simple question, "Did the truck burn up?" He was hauling crude oil. That would be a legitimate, simple question to me.
What they could tell me was that the 911 call was made at 3:58am concerning a semi that had rolled - no other vehicles were involved and no one saw the accident actually happen. When the ambulance arrived, Joe was already gone. In addition, because he was driving a semi, the state requires an autopsy. (They wanted to make sure he wasn't drunk or doped up.)
I needed to go get my baby. He would make me feel better. But, I needed to take a shower. Suddenly, I felt so gross. I still had people in our house - well, our apartment. Our house is in Georgia. Thank goodness we didn't sell our house. What am I going to do? Oh, what am I going to say to Kayden? How is he going to react? How am I going to raise him all by myself. He's supposed to have two parents.
The victim's advocate asked if she could drive me to the school and if she should tell our son or if I wanted to do it. I knew I had to do it. How insensitive would that be to have someone he has never even seen before to tell him that his daddy's dead while I sit there in silence? I don't think so. "I do want you to drive me to the school. I will tell him, though. And, if you don't mind, I need to take a shower first."
On the way to the school, I remember the need for support from someone. I knew I couldn't talk to anyone at the moment. Kayden needed to be the first to know about this. No one else. I opened the Facebook App on my phone and updated my status to read, "Please, please, please say a prayer for my family."
We pulled up at the school. The victim's advocate informed me that while I was in the shower, she called the school to inform them that we were on our way and what had happened. She and I walked into the principal's office and sat down while the principal went to get Kayden from his classroom. I knew the little guy was strong like his daddy, but I didn't expect his reaction at all. When he walked in the office, I could see the look of bewilderment all over his face (he gets that from me). I motioned for him to sit in my lap. He asked, "What's going on?" I had tried to figure out the easiest way to say this to him. Easy? You've got to be kidding. There is nothing 'easy' about saying this. His daddy is his hero. He's supposed to be invinsible.
Trying to fight back the tears that were flowing down my face like rain out of two downspouts, I muttered,"Daddy's been in an accident. He's not coming home."
My little rock only shed one tear. No crying. No screaming. No throwing anything. He turned all the way around to face me with one tear holding onto his left cheek and gave me a really big hug. I bawled some more.
How can a child be so strong? It's not that he doesn't understand. He understands because it was less than two years ago since he lost his Papa and less than a year ago since he lost his G-Ma. He totally understands. In my opinion, he understands too much for an eight year old little boy. Why has he had to go through so much? Why us?
As we walked to the victim's advocate's car, I asked if she would take me to the yard where Joe parked the X-Terra so I could drive it back to the apartment. She agreed to do so. On the way over there, I began making some really important, difficult phone calls. I didn't have Joe's dad's phone number so I called his wife to get it. She asked a couple of different times what was wrong, but I couldn't tell her. I needed to tell Cliff myself. Then, I called his sister, one of his aunts, and his uncle.
I didn't know if Kayden would want to ride in his daddy's truck or not, but I asked and he did. So, we loaded up and I drove us back to the apartment while the victim's advocate went her separate way. Without me knowing, my mother had a family member to contact the church and I received a phone call before we arrived at the apartment that there were people waiting on us when we arrived.
How appreciative I am that people were there to help me with the most simple task - keeping Kayden occupied. He's such a people person. He thrives on attention. I'd much rather have it that way so the attention is not on me.
The women from the church took care of coordinating all kinds of things for me - like picking up my sister from the airport (she hopped on the first available flight), making sure Kayden had something to do, organizing meals, and even help for packing. I couldn't stay in Colorado. The only reason we went was for Joe's job. Our family was in Georiga. Our home was in Georgia. I needed to go home.
The next few days were a blur of crying, packing, crying, talking on the phone, crying, answering messages and texts, crying, and more crying. I do remember finding out more information from the Greeley Tribune than what was given to me by the Colorado State Patrol.
I remember a wonderful lady from church giving me a massage to help me rest better. I also remember so many people offering up prayers and support for me and for my baby. We have such a large support system and I am so very thankful for that. It's hard for me and i'm sure I can be difficult to handle, but It means so much to me to be shown so much love and compassion by so many people. Thank you, all!
Never take anything for granted.
Welcome to Rockville: April 2013 - My husband and I attended a two day rock festival in Jacksonville, Florida.
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